In Service: A Science Fantasy Quest

"Delay." You mutter to Sean, keeping your voice as low as possible. He doesn't react, but it's clear he heard.

"This plan of yours…" Sean starts, turning his charm up to the max. Your hand starts inching towards the communicator. "It certainly sounds ingenious."

(Sean's Persuasion Roll DC 40: 93+15=108, success, woah
60+8=68, double success)

"Ingenious!? It's far more than that! It's…" He frowns, glancing across the room for inspiration. His eyes light up as he passes a glance over the altar. "It's diabolical!" He cackles, your hand drawing ever closer.

Sean nods, laying it on thick as he does. "Indeed! It's the most diabolical plan I've ever encountered," he flicks a hand up and down himself, "and I've seen a lot of plans in my career."

(Sean's Deception Roll DC 40: 31+10+5=46, success)

The cultist squints, a suspicious look on his face as his eyes skip up and down along Sean before he settles on the Dullahan's own face. Your heart skips a beat as the old man readjusts his grip on the gun. "Hmm, yes, this plan is my plan! And it's the best anyone anywhere has ever had!" Your hand creeps nearer and nearer, just a few moments away from brushing up against the communicator.

"I'm sure it is truly great, but… how can ones as simple as ourselves comprehend such a diabolical plot?" It rankles you to be called 'simple', even in a situation like this, but you suck it up.

(Sean's Persuasion Roll DC 50: 62+10=72, success)

"My plan? Why, it's a truly intellectual scheme." He begins, if he didn't have Amelia in a hold right now you reckon that he'd be making some dramatic, sweeping gestures. "For a truly intellectual purpose! I was there, you know, back when the demons poured in and slaughtered my classmates and teachers." He smiles wistfully, it churns your stomach even looking at it. "I realized something then, when I watched them die so powerlessly, so helplessly." You grasp the communicator, thumbing the distress signal. "The powerless have no chance, for the powerful will exploit them to the fullest! And knowledge, knowledge is power! So I gained more knowledge, knowledge of how to get more knowledge!" His eyes are wild and crazed, wandering sightlessly from person to thing to person again. "I made deals with the very beings that enlightened me, souls for power! Knowledge is power so souls are worth power!" It's clear that he's bereft of his sanity, foam spewing from his mouth as he rants and rambles. Just how long did he spend down here?

(Obsession (Lower Realm) Resolve Roll DC 35: 92+50=142, success
24+42=66, double success)
(Obsession (Knowledge) Resolve Roll DC 55: 38+50=88, success)

You clench your jaw shut, squashing the dual desires for both knowledge and the lower realm beneath the heel of your will-toed boot. Not today, not today…

The cultist doesn't seem to notice, carrying on with his deranged rants and ravings. "And with that knowledge… I will gain so much power! I will be unstoppable!"

(What's the level of the Cultist's drama? 94, very high)

You blink, as does Sean, in shock and bewilderment as the cultist draws the gun from Amelia's mouth––his desire to gesticulate getting the best of him, you suppose.

(Amelia's Wrestling Roll: 1+15=16, that's bad, that's really bad)
(Cultist's Wrestling Roll: 73-20(old age+insanity)=53, )
(Cultist wins)

Amelia wastes no time, lunging for the gun as soon as it's not pointing at her––her limbs a blur of movement as she moves.

The cultist growls, having been ready for this since he got there. He body checks her as she's moving and unbalanced, knocking her back a step or two. He raises the gun, the barrel pointing straight at her as she's recovering.

(Initiative Roll DC 50: 44+20=64, success)

Time seems to slow to a halt, your breath caught in your chest and your heart like a drum beat in your throat. You can save her, you know you can pull it off, the only question is…

…What do you do?
[ ] Shoot him (Guaranteed to save Amelia but has a significant chance of triggering the ritual)
[ ] Tackle him (Not guaranteed to save Amelia but won't trigger the ritual––if you're successful)

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Short one today, my apologies, but this is far too important of a choice for me to make for you. Voting, as always, will be called tomorrow at 6 PM CST, thanks for reading!

(Wrestling Roll: 48+15=63)
(Cultist's Wrestling Roll: 25-20=5, not even close)
(Itza wins)

You push off the ground, hitting your stride in an instant and crossing the stretch in but a few steps.

The cultist doesn't see you coming, too engrossed in Amelia's imminent death, and you drive your shoulder into his side. He falls, the gun flashes as spasming fingers pull the trigger, the echo of the gunshot thundering in your ears. You wince, tinnitus screaming in your ears as you twist.

He hits the ground backfirst, spine arching in a jolt as you pin his arms above his head and plant your knee on his stomach. Sparks of baleful energy spray from his eyes as he twists his head, locking gazes with you. Cold fingers of confusion stab into your mind.

(Resist (Mental) DC 35: 100+5=105, success, holy cow
41+5=46, double success)

You punch him. Once.

His head bounces off the smooth floor, brain rattling in his skull. The crazed man slumps back, dazed drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Sean slides in next to you, restraints in his hands. He immediately starts securing the cultist, arresting him for later questioning––and charging.

You pant, rising from the crumpled body of the cultist. You wipe some of the man's drool from your suit and flick it off with a look of disgust. A flicker of movement draws your attention, as Amelia stands with a look of, for her, intense emotion on her face.

"I am sorry." Amelia says as she climbs to her feet––looking to all the world like nothing of any significance just happened.

You stare at her, open-mouthed and stunned, honestly baffled by what she means––though you have your suspicions. "W-what do you have to be sorry about? That you got caught by him?"

"I wasn't able to resolve it myself." The half-elf says, back straight and scarlet eyes clear.

"He got the drop on you, it happens." Sean says, having finished securing the cultist––who's been gagged and finger cuffed. "You're still alive and kicking, that's all that matters."

"No, I wasn't enough. If I were more capable it wouldn't have happened." Stunned, you watch as anger crawls across Amelia's face, a shocking display for one such as her. Her mouth curls down in a scowl; her hands twist into tightly clenched fists––blood leaks from in between her fingers and knuckles. The half-elf shudders, her shoulders shaking as she tenses, thoughts flash like lightning across her mind.

And then, all of a sudden, it's gone and Amelia's back to her normal self, like nothing ever happened. The only evidence that something even did is the blood under her nails and the puncture marks on her palms.

You open your mouth, then close it. You… have no words, not right now, not in the immediate aftermath of the cultist's actions. Sean moves to approach her, but comes to a jerking halt a few steps away, something telling him 'don't'.

"We should deal with them." She pivots, marching towards the hidden door and the prisoner within.

You and Sean share a concerned look, but follow Amelia's lead regardless.

~~~~~~~

(Perception (Auditory) DC 60: 62+10=72, success)

As you climb out of the collapsed hole, the boy being carried on Sean's back and the cultist being escorted by Amelia, you pause at the mouth of the hole. A sound, like tires squealing on pavement, reaches your ears. You shift, looking down the hallway towards the front doors––lights, headlights, grow larger in the glare of the doorway glass.

And then you clock it: they're getting closer.

Your eyes widen, muscles tensing as the front door crashes inwards, a splintering of wood, glass, and cheap steel thrown out in a shower under the weight of the APC, the cannon immediately sweeping the room.

You can hear rumbling from behind you, the sound of something taking notice.

The back ramp drops and a stream of armored KT Agents pour out of the APC, a variety of weapons at the ready, covering every angle. Swords, rifles, a staff, all this and more are the weapons on display. You spot their leader, KT Agent––or Captain, rather, Daniels striding forward, an animated suit of plate armor keeping pace next to him and a particularly muscle-bound woman walking behind––the torn off sleeves giving you something of a gun show. KT Captain Daniels' is still slightly scorched, though he seemed to have swapped out his greatcoat for another.

Huh, Daniels wears the standard agent attire, greatcoat, suit, and tie, while his subordinates all wear the KT Armor––when they are capable of doing so, in the animated suit of armor's case.

"Gall, ID 'em." Daniels says as you step closer, eyes peering past you and down the hall––towards the gym. The suit of armor 'nods', its 'head'––an armet, bobbing up and down. The hollow metal man raises a gauntlet, a circle of magic spiraling into existence around it, spider webbing down then fingers of the armored glove, rings of magic telescope out from the empty palm. Eventually, the suit nods, giving KT Captain Daniels a thumbs up. "Thank you, Gall."

The Android turns his attention to you, the woman behind him taking up the watch. She carries a club in hand and a bow slung on her back, a quiver on her side. Just by looking at her you know she's a heroic descendent of some sort, the very air hums with power unrealized.

"Trainees Willams, Raegin, and McCullen report." He orders, an air of serious purpose to his words. "What are we looking at here?" He looks the cultist up and down, his eyes the only thing moving in his head.

"Things went south quickly, "you begin, a hand flipped at the collapsed floor, "the floor col-" You're cut off, KT Captain Daniels stepping in with the weight of authority.

"I'm not looking for the full report, Trainee Williams, I want the rundown of what we'll be facing and where it is." You wince at his cold tone, heat rising on your cheeks. That's gonna be playing in your head later, you just know it.

You resist the urge to apologize and carry on. "W-well, there's a Great Bearded Devil in the gymnasium." You point down the hallway. "Team Three and Ryan are keeping an eye on it now."

"Beard length?" You blink, mind racing to remember that seemingly trivial detail.

(Learning DC 35: 18+10=28, failure, ouch)

You open your mouth, reluctant to admit that you don't remember when Amelia suddenly cuts in, saving your ego another hit like the savior she is. "3.57 Meters." And that's an interestingly exact number for an eyeball measurement.

The woman grins, twirling the club by its leather strap. "Finally, something even resembling a challenge!" She leans in towards you conspiratorially, stage whispering to you behind a theatrically placed palm. "He never lets me off the leash." KT Captain Daniels doesn't respond, ignoring her entirely and gesturing for Amelia to proceed.

"Ritual room below floors, beware of potential Minorus Imp stragglers. Ritual needs one more life to activate. Ritual suspected to involve the acquisition of knowledge, potentially by the summoning of a knowledge demon." She reels off robotically, the cultist struggling in her iron grasp as a pair of KT Agents approach. The half-elf hands him off without a fuss, though you reckon that she wants to. Another agent takes the boy from Sean, saying that she's bringing the prisoner to the medics for checking over.

"Confirmed." Daniels acknowledges, his team falling in behind you as he steps past. He pauses, glancing back at you. "Report to HQ for debriefing. Or," he adds, a hint of levity returning to his voice, "you may assist in the clean up."

[ ] Proceed to debriefing
[ ] Stick around for clean up

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: And here we are, arriving at the end of the exam––how'd you think you did? Voting will be called tomorrow at 6 PM CST, as always. Thanks for participating!

The clean up crew, a nickname that the Kill Teams give themselves, is a monument to overkill, massive amounts of overkill.

"So, boss, gonna let me give it hell?" The heroic descendent, who you would later learn is called Eleni, presses KT Captain Daniels again.
"Yes."

"Aw, come on boss, you ne- wait, really?!" The absolutely radiant open-mouthed smile that spreads across her face could melt snow with how much it reflects light. The Android nods as he directe his team around, readying to breach the gym where the Great Bearded Devil is making a ruckus.

"Disarm it and we'll pin it together." He responds, his body reconfiguring under his suit. Large meathook-like hooks fall from inside his sleeves, swinging from tough looking cables. Eleni deflates, the smile falling from her face much like the hooks.

"I knew it was too good to be true." She mutters, scuffing the ground with her boot. The woman shrugs, seemingly already over it. "Oh well, at least I get to hit it around for a bit."

She rolls her shoulders, stretching as she stands before the door. She pulls the club from her waist and taps it against her palm. The glazed window of the gym doors darkens, a shadow falling over and a sickly yellow glow shone out in a circle––the eye of the Great Bearded Devil peeking out.

The club, a dense wooden thing with bands of iron, smashes through the glass and into the thing's face.

The Great Bearded Devil stumbles back, a gnarled hand pressed to the side of its face––where the sleeveless woman had struck it with her club. The infernal beast snarls, spitting sparks from its unhinging jaw, its tendril-like tongue writhing in the air. The bearded monstrosity raises its sword and swings, the 8 foot blade aiming to bisect Eleni hip to hip.

She plants her feet, a joyous laugh slipping through her mouth as she claps her hands around the blade––the lacquered wood floor splintering as she drives her boot-clad feet deeper. The devil tries to retrieve its weapon, to pull it back, but it can't––Eleni's got too good of a grip on its sword, her fingers digging into the hellish metal.

The heroic descendent wrenches the sword to the side, twisting and pulling the much larger devil off balance as it stumbles forwards, only letting go to avoid falling over entirely. Eleni twirls the sword around, planting the blade on her shoulder as she rears back like a baseball batter.

The sword carves through the chest of the devil, the already unsteadied demon stumbling back even further as its brackish, infernal blood sprays out in a great crimson arc––liberally coating the floor and an unlucky basketball hoop.

And then, KT Captain Daniels leaps into action, pneumatics in his legs propelling him to great heights. The cords of the hooks trailing behind him as he sails across the sky, the hooks themselves secured firmly in his ungloved grasp. He twists as he reaches the demon, spiking the hooks into the hellspawn's collarbone, one on each side of the neck.

The artificial man lands on the ground with a slight bounce. Lengths of metal shoot from the front of his torso, tearing through the suit and driving themselves deep into the ground, giving him something to brace against for his next action.

He hauls on the cords. His whole body twists to add unneeded strength to the movement as the beast is already nearly falling over, it just needs a little more of a push. A push in the form of a super science-wrought man of metal and machine.

(Perception Roll DC 45: 36+10=46, success)

You see, from your spot by the doorway, the beard of the Great Bearded Devil comes to life. The thread-like hairs of the beast twist and dive into the great gash in its front. They crisscross, bringing the two edges of the wound closer and closer together, sewing it closed at an accelerated pace. When they leave the wound there's not a single piece of evidence that there was a wound there in the first place. You feel an idea coming on, bubbling up in the back of your mind like a burbling witch's cauldron.

(Passing Idea Roll DC 50,70,100: 74+15=89, double success)

What if you could… create a sort of fiber that functions similarly to the Great Bearded Devils' beard? A fiber that would stitch your wounds shut on the field? That would be quite useful, you reckon, thinking back to Ryan's back injury.

(Idea Gained: Auto-Stitching Fibers)

The beast hits the ground with a calamitous roar, the floor cracking under its weight as it thrashes in KT Captain Daniels' grasp. Eleni leaps into action, by kicking the thing's chest in and jumping off––joining Daniels in keeping it down.

A trio of KT Agents rush up, each carrying a compact rocket launcher on their shoulder. The lead and Daniels share a nod and he releases the hooks––which slide back up his sleeves. The devil immediately reacts, rolling to the side and to its feet––right into the trio of screaming rockets, all of which slam into its left side.

When the smoke clears, all thats left of the Great Bearded Devil is a pair of ankles and wrists, and some of its beard, the hairs drifting in the smoke. The head of the beast lands, hitting the ground with a meaty smack, adding a bit more blood to the already well-coated area. You grimace and brush off a bit of bloody bone that landed on your shoulder.

Agents rush past you, one carrying what looks like a backpack mounted sprayer of some sort. The unburdened agents collect and toss the remaining parts in the crater while the sprayer agent sets up, pointing the nozzle into the pit.

(Knowledge (Super Science) Roll DC 30: 43+15=58, success)

Oh, wait, you know that! That's a thermathrower!

The thermathrower carrying agent pulls the lever, unleashing a torrent of liquid thermite into the hole, completely annihilating the remains of the beast. All in all, it took about 30-40ish seconds to complete.

(Perception Roll DC 60,80: 84+10=94, double success, nice)

Floating in the air, right by you, is a small clump of wiggling beard hair, nearly translucent in the light of the fire. Thinking quickly, you grab it and stuff it in your pocket. They'll be useful for your work later… as long as you contain them properly, so you make sure to get them in a baggie.

(Roll twice when designing the Auto-Stitching Fibers)

The rest of the clean up proceeds in much the same way. They find something, they kill it if it needs killing, then dispose of any remains or artifacts.

The light of the body-burning fires reflects on your glasses, the warmth kissing your skin. This… this is what happens when you call in the Kill Team. You should remember that, as you watch the bodies of those poor people that cultist murdered be tossed in the pyres like sacks of potatos. You've seen some messed up stuff in the past, your time in Troy being a notable instance, but this…

You want to throw up, exhaustion tearing through your body at an unbelievable pace as the adrenaline finally leaves your system. On shaky legs, you hobble to the van, climbing in as the sun begins to set, the unnatural darkness lifted.

With the rest of the trainees sans Ryan here in the van with you, you have a choice to make. Do you want to interact with them on the way back or just try and get a couple winks of shut eye, what little that'll be.

[ ] Talk to the other trainees
-[ ] About what? (Write in)
[ ] Just turn in for however long you can get

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Alrighty, 16k words and 44 pages later, we've arrived at the end of The Exam! Woo! As always, voting will be called tomorrow at 6 PM CST. Thanks for watching!